


Retrograde

by cuubism



Series: Music Theory [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Dementia, Devotion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Immortality Issues (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Implied Sexual Content, Literally this is just angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Protective Alec Lightwood, Sad Ending, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28454415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuubism/pseuds/cuubism
Summary: Magnus wakes to a quiet room, and a man holding him who he doesn't recognize. A man wearing a wedding ring.Bingo Square: Memories
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Music Theory [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097555
Comments: 49
Kudos: 134





	Retrograde

**Author's Note:**

> a sort-of sequel to [keep time on me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227687), but can be read alone

Everything is sort of hazy when Magnus wakes. He’s surrounded by warmth and soft textures, body cradled by oversized loungewear, sheets slipping over his shoulders. He realizes, gradually, that he’s pressed up against someone, his back to their front, strong arms wrapped around his torso.

He turns over so he can see who it is, and the person’s arms tighten around him, holding him close.

He recognizes the man holding him, and he doesn’t. Which is to say, he doesn’t recognize him, but he doesn’t flee from him either, following some instinctive urge to stay close, against his usual better judgement. He must have known him, Magnus thinks, maybe in another life.

The man, who’s awake, doesn’t say anything as Magnus appraises him, but a tear gathers slowly in the corner of his eye. Magnus reaches out to wipe it away.

“Why are you crying?”

The man blinks, then blinks again, tears coming more rapidly now and slipping down his cheeks to wet the pillowcase below his head. And Magnus doesn’t understand why, but he’s sure it has something to do with him, and can’t help but feel guilty for making him cry.

“Don’t worry about it,” the man says. His voice is rough, overused. He runs a hand through Magnus’s hair, and Magnus sighs instinctively at his gentle touch. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Magnus says. “I don’t want to make you cry…” he looks up at him, waits for the man to give his name, only realizing this was the wrong move when a stricken look flashes across the man’s face.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Magnus knows he should know who he is. He can _feel_ that he should. He considers lying to him, but dismisses it almost immediately. “No,” he says, even as he sees the sharp blade that simple word drives right between the man’s ribs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” the man murmurs. His voice is a calming wave that soothes the ragged edges of Magnus’s being. Magnus wants to drown himself in it. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s Alexander.”

Magnus presses a hand to the man’s chest, right below the hollow of his throat. “Alexander,” he repeats experimentally, and Alexander lets out a sort of low wounded noise. They are very close, closer than Magnus would normally ever let a stranger get, but then, they’re not strangers, are they? “And just who are you to me, Alexander?”

*

 _Magnus stares at the wall of his apothecary blankly, blinks several times, looking from the jar of yarrow in his hand to his wall of ingredients and back again._ What…? _he thinks, slowly, the words percolating up through the vagueness that surrounds him._ What am I doing here?

 _He looks at the jar again._ Why do I have this? _He knows what yarrow is used for, of course, but he doesn’t know why he’s picked it up, what potion he was intending to make. Didn’t he have a meeting scheduled with the High Warlock of Lagos? No, that was last week, focus—_

Why am I in my apothecary? When did I even get here?

_“Magnus?”_

Shit, it’s happening again, isn’t it? _He’s been having these lapses, moments where he forgets what he’s doing, forgets where he is, forgets forgets forgets. And Magnus’s grasp on time is shaky as it is, but he’s pretty sure they’re getting more frequent._

_“Magnus?”_

_Alec’s standing in front of him now, hand lifted as if he’s about to wave it in front of Magnus’s face. Magnus tries to blink back to awareness._

_“Sorry, darling, I—forgot what I was doing for a moment.”_

_Alec’s gaze sharpens on him. “Are you having one of your spells?”_

_Magnus places the jar down on his desk carefully, like his failing memory will affect his coordination too. “Maybe.”_

_Alec immediately takes him over to the couch, sits him down, even though Magnus is perfectly capable of walking on his own. Alec has a whole_ routine _now for whenever Magnus starts to slip away from the flow of time. Best to just let him get to it._

_Alec presses a kiss to his forehead, then leaves him on the couch for a moment while he heads to the kitchen to make this strange herbal tea he found in some Shadow Market God knows where. Supposedly it steadies the mind. Magnus isn’t convinced it actually works, but he doesn’t say so, figuring it’s best to just let Alec feel like he’s able to help in some way._

_Magnus sits on the couch, waiting, falling back into his own head as he always does. Sometimes he thinks he lives half his life in his own head, more so the older he gets. The world can be so taxing._

_What he wouldn’t give to be properly part of the world now._

_He stares at his hands, the subtle shake of them, evidence of his unraveling composure. And confused spells like this always knock him off balance, that’s no surprise, but—_

_It feels different this time._

_Normally Magnus just feels muddled, his brain skidding around too fast in his skull, missing connections, throwing all the memories into a jumbled pile on the floor. It’s confusing, and distressing, but eventually, all the pieces get put back into their correct slots and his mind is righted._

_This, these particular moments of forgetting… it doesn’t feel like that._

_This feels like slipping down a hill he hadn’t realized was inclining. This feels like reaching for a balloon when it’s already too high in the sky, his hand closing on empty air. And in a way, it feels like the inevitable conclusion for his too-cluttered mind, always going too fast and finally spinning right off the tracks. He just doesn’t understand why it had to be_ now _, right when he’s started to find some semblance of balance—_

_“Magnus? Hey, no, it’s okay.” Alec’s suddenly crouching in front of him, tea abandoned on the coffee table as he takes Magnus’s face between his hands. And Magnus doesn’t even realize he’s started crying until Alec wipes the tears from under his eyes. “Don’t cry, it’s gonna be okay.”_

It isn’t, _Magnus thinks, willing Alec to understand so he won’t have to say it._ It isn’t at all.

*

Magnus feels it under his palm as Alexander swallows. “Someone who loves you more than anything.”

This, Magnus thinks, is a given, and then freezes—because that’s never been a given for him before. Alexander is singular indeed.

Just _how_ singular is right past the edge of his consciousness, it’s close enough he can _feel_ it, can almost reach it—but every time he tries, it slides just out of reach, leaving him back in this confused haze. If he thinks about it too much, he might panic, so he tries not to think about it.

“How are you feeling?” Alexander asks. “Earlier, you were… not feeling great.”

Magnus doesn’t even remember that. And he barely _knows_ how he’s feeling, but he tries to answer anyway. “I feel… alright,” he says. “Confused.”

“You’re not in any pain?”

Magnus shakes his head.

“That’s good.” Alexander sounds like he’s comforting himself more than anything.

“I’m not in pain,” Magnus confirms, “I’m…” Alexander’s gaze snaps back towards him, concerned, and Magnus continues on a wavering breath, “I’m scared.”

*

_“I have to tell you something.”_

_Magnus is lying on the couch, his head in Alec’s lap, when he finally decides to tell him. Perhaps it’s because, on his side like this with his forehead pressed into Alec’s belly, he can’t see Alec’s face._

_Alec rests a hand in his hair, tugs at it gently. His voice is cautious. “What is it?”_

_It’s like he knows already that he won’t like what Magnus is about to say. And Magnus wishes more than anything that he could disabuse him of that, let Alec stay in this little golden bubble of ignorance where everything will still be okay._

_The words burn his throat on the way out. “This isn’t like the other times.”_

_Alec’s grip tightens in his hair. Magnus leans against it, grounding himself on the edge of pain. “What do you mean?”_

_“I mean…” It takes Magnus a long moment to be able to say it. “I don’t think it’s going to get better.”_

_Alec leans over him then, tugging on Magnus to urge him to look up at him. His gaze is tight with concern, but not as much as Magnus expected—which means he doesn’t understand. “What, do you mean you’ll just—keep having those moments indefinitely?”_

_Magnus wishes it were that simple. He could find a way to deal with that. But he doesn’t think that’s what this is. He’s heard of this happening to other warlocks, before. The sheer weight of memory and time becoming so much that their brains just give out under the strain._

_It doesn’t go the way of indefinite, minor memory lapses._

_“I mean,” he clarifies, and he has to look away, he can’t watch Alec’s expression crumple as he hears this, “I think it’s going to get worse.”_

_Alec grips his chin and tilts Magnus’s face back to meet his gaze. There’s the beginning of an understanding there and Magnus really wants to close his eyes. “How—” Alec swallows roughly— “How much worse?”_

_“I don’t know.” He has an idea, though. A dreadful idea, though he’s not sure how much of it is accurate and how much is his own terrified fatalism._

_“Magnus,” Alec repeats, his voice serious. His gaze bores into Magnus’s soul. “How much worse?”_

*

There’s not many people he would have admitted that to, but he trusts Alexander. He doesn’t want to think about what that means. The tremendous loss hovering just out of sight.

And Magnus promised himself he wasn’t going to panic, but it rises in his chest anyway, his breathing coming quick and uneven because he just doesn’t know what’s going on, he can’t remember _anything_ —

And Alexander hauls him into his arms and crushes him close to his chest. Magnus presses his face into his throat, hot and frustrated and frightened tears spilling down his cheeks and wetting Alexander’s shirt, and Magnus really wants to break something, himself maybe, but Alexander doesn’t let him go.

“It’s okay, baby,” Alexander murmurs, “It’s okay to be scared. I got you.”

*

_Magnus kisses him. He kisses and kisses and kisses him, like he does sometimes when he feels like it’s that or stop breathing._

_Alec pulls him close, pulls him down onto the bed; Magnus lets himself sink into the heat of his skin, the realest thing he’s ever known. He relishes in Alec’s hands in his hair, the firm presence of his body, the—_

_—he breaks apart their mouths, losing his train of thought, the body under him suddenly foreign to him, the sheets scratching against his skin, the shape of the bedroom twisting at his mind._

_“Magnus?”_

_Who— who is he kissing?_

_He lurches away, huddles at the other end of the bed, knowing he’s probably hurting the feelings of the man beside him but unable to stop himself._

_Where— where_ is _he?_

_“Magnus? Are you okay?”_

_There’s a familiarity to the way this man says his name that makes Magnus shiver. They’re something to each other. They’re everything to each other. They’re—_

_Magnus blinks, and it’s Alexander in front of him again, eyes wide and terrified, and Magnus is hyperventilating, and—_

_“A— Alexander?”_

_Magnus reaches for him, and Alec crawls forward to pull him into a hug, holds him crushingly tight, lets Magnus press his face into his neck. Magnus breathes him in, the familiar smell of him._

“Alexander,” _he cries again._

_Alec runs hands through his hair as if confirming his existence. “Magnus, what happened?”_

_“I—” Magnus chokes on the words. How can he say this to him? How can he hurt his Alexander like this?_

_“I forgot you.”_

*

Alexander’s hands in his hair are so familiar, the rumble of his voice is like something out of Magnus’s dreams, he smells like Magnus’s shampoo for Christ’s sake—and Magnus can make assumptions but assumptions aren’t the same as _knowing him_.

 _Know him_ , he wants to yell at his stupid useless immortal fallible brain. _KNOW HIM._

It isn’t until Alexander kisses him that Magnus realizes he was hyperventilating. He kisses him just once, quick, hands bracketing his jaw, but Magnus kisses him back harder, desperate, _needing_. As if this touch alone can reorient the broken axis of his world.

And Alexander flips them so he’s on top and can lean his entire weight on Magnus, the pressure of him shivering away some of Magnus’s shakiness until he can think again, just a little. Alexander knows exactly what he needs before he even realizes he needs it. Magnus wonders how long they’ve been together. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask.

He gives up on kissing Alexander and just holds his face between his hands, imagining doing so every evening, every morning. And then pushes that thought out of his head because it makes him want to cleave his own heart out of his chest.

“You make me feel so safe,” he muses, wondering at it, pushing Alexander’s hair out of his eyes.

There’s a whole world of sadness in Alexander’s gaze that Magnus can’t understand. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

*

_A few nights later, when Alec tries to kiss him, Magnus can’t help but shy away from his touch._

_Alec tilts his head to try and catch Magnus’s gaze. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”_

_Magnus refrains himself from saying,_ No, I’ll never be okay again. _He’s very rarely been_ okay _in his life, anyway. There won’t be much difference. “I’m fine, darling. I don’t know what came over me.”_

 _He tries to lean up to kiss Alec, but can’t seem to make himself touch his lips. His mind is too caught by what will happen_ later _, weeks or months or years from now, to be able to sink into the present moment._

_“Magnus?”_

_Magnus steps back out of the circle of Alec’s arms. “I can’t do this.”_

_“What’s wrong?” Alec takes a tentative step back towards him. “If you’re worried I won’t want you because of—” he swallows hard, unable to say it— “that couldn’t be further from the truth.”_

_Magnus shakes his head. “You deserve better.”_

_He doesn’t know if Alec was expecting this or if he’s just heard it from Magnus before, but he doesn’t even flinch, just says evenly, “There is no better for me.”_

_Magnus laughs harshly. “Someone who won’t_ forget you _in the middle of—” he bits the sentence off hard enough he’s surprised his lip doesn’t start to bleed. “Someone who knows you.”_

_“Stop,” Alec says._

_“Someone who_ remembers _you.”_

_“Magnus, stop.”_

_“You don’t deserve…_ this.” Me.

 _“I want_ you.”

 _Alec knows him too well now. He’s learned to hear what Magnus isn’t saying. Magnus can’t pull one over on him anymore, can’t leave anything unsaid, can’t hide his fear that if Alec so much as_ looks _at him now it will poison not just their future, but their prior memories, too._

 _And Magnus knows Alec’s absolutely earnest about what he’s said, that he wants_ Magnus, _that he wants to stay, that he wants them to remain_ them _. But Magnus can see the trajectory of their relationship spiraling out before them, and he doesn’t_ want _that for Alec. That incremental destruction._

_“But I’m going to leave you,” he says quietly, the words barely audible. “I don’t want that for you.”_

_Alec’s hands run up and down his shoulders, over his chest, up his neck to cradle his jaw. He holds Magnus like he’ll break, and for once, Magnus thinks he actually might. His gaze is dark and completely serious, determined despite all the pain. “I’ll follow you.”_

*

“I’m glad I have you here.” Magnus says. He doesn’t really want anyone to witness him spiraling out of control, but if someone has to, he’s glad it’s someone who makes him feel so at home. And he’s immensely grateful to have a hand to hold.

Alexander leans in to kiss his forehead. “I’ll always be here.”

He will, he will, and he’ll hurt himself to do it, Magnus knows. He doesn’t want Alexander to hurt himself, desperately doesn’t want that. But he’s just selfish and frightened enough not to say so.

Because he’s aware enough to know what’s happening. To know he’s forgetting. But he doesn’t know where it goes from here. Doesn’t know if it will get better, or worse.

He doesn’t want to think about what _worse_ looks like, the complete fracturing of his mind, the splintering of his memories out into the air. It’s his absolute worst fear, a complete loss of control, come to trembling, beating life in his chest.

But Alexander’s arms are around him.

*

_Magnus decides to leave._

_He can feel his mind slipping rapidly, much more rapidly than he even expected. He’s forgetting things—spells, potion recipes, places, memories,_ people _. He hasn’t forgotten Alec yet, other than those few brief terrifying slips, but he knows it’s only a matter of time._

_He doesn’t want Alec to have to see that happen._

_Better if Magnus just leaves, while he still has the presence of mind to be able to, the memory of where is safe for him to go and the ability to portal there. He has properties all over the world, including some that even Alec and Cat don’t know about. No one will be able to find him._

_He’s packed a bag and has his hand on the doorknob, ready to portal as soon as he’s outside the loft and the reach of his wards, when he hesitates. He doesn’t_ want _to do this. He doesn’t want to leave Alec. He doesn’t want to ruin their marriage, even if it’ll ruin itself soon enough._

_He tries to tell himself it’s for the best, that Alec doesn’t deserve what’s going to happen. That no one he loves does. How is Madzie going to feel when she comes to visit and Magnus doesn’t recognize her? How is Raphael going to feel when Magnus forgets him entirely?_

_No, better if they think Magnus has gone into seclusion, or simply died. It will be easier that way._

_Cat, in a way, is the easiest to leave, if only because he knows she’ll_ understand _. She’ll understand there’s nothing else to_ do _, nothing else to_ fight for.

 _He can hear Alec on the phone with her now, in the other room, pleading desperately for options. Alec must know that Cat would never give up on Magnus, even when she should. If she’s telling him there isn’t a solution, it’s because there truly_ isn’t _one._

_It should be heartening, the way Alec fights for him._

_But Magnus just feels so defeated. So… prematurely ruined._

_Alec, of course, is the hardest one to leave of them all._

_Magnus is so caught up in his thoughts about it that he doesn’t realize Alec’s ended the call, doesn’t hear the footsteps until Alec’s standing in front of him._

_Alec looks from the bag in Magnus’s hand, to his jacket, to his face. “Are you… leaving?” His eyes are rimmed red, his voice hoarse, like he’s been yelling. Throwing futile demands at Cat that he’ll have to apologize for later, Magnus guesses._

_Magnus looks down at the bag in his hand. It looks so pathetic, this meager attempt to bundle together all his necessities for a rapid escape, missing everything that’s truly important._

_Still, he says, “Yes.”_

_Alec takes a tentative step towards him, like he thinks Magnus will bolt. “Why?”_

_Magnus knows Alec well by now, too well. Well enough to know he won’t leave Magnus’s side, no matter how rough it gets. It should be comforting, but instead it just makes Magnus feel like he’s dragging both of them down._

_“You won’t leave when you should,” he says quietly, “so I’m doing it first.”_

_Alec flinches. “Do you want me to leave?”_

_Magnus still can’t look at him. “You have to.”_

“Why?”

_“Because—” he makes a broad flailing motion with his hand— “you have your whole life ahead of you. You don’t deserve to be dealing with all of this.”_

_Alec’s face sets along harder lines, a hint of anger in his expression. “Why don’t you let me decide that.”_

_“Because I know you_ won’t.”

 _“Of course I won’t.” Alec steps closer, and Magnus instinctively steps back until he’s pressed up against the door, dropping his bag, Alec crowding into his space. “I_ love _you.”_

_Magnus shakes his head desperately. “It doesn’t matter.”_

_“It doesn’t_ matter?” _He sounds incredulous, maybe heartbroken._

 _Magnus shakes his head again, trying to convince himself, backing further away from Alec until he’s making himself small against the door. He_ knows _that Alec loves him, he_ knows _that of course it_ matters, _but— “It doesn’t change anything. And I don’t want—” he takes a shuddering breath to try and steel himself “—you to love me if it means you’ll let yourself get hurt like this.”_

“Magnus.”

 _Magnus has to cover his ears to block out the pleading note in Alec’s voice._ This _is why he needs to leave. Because it’s just going to be like this from now on. Magnus breaking Alec’s heart, over and over again, and Alec just_ staying _, and taking it._

*

Magnus shifts them sideways so he can bury himself deeper into his arms, close his eyes, block out the rest of the evening light before it can fall on a life he so desperately wants to know, but can’t.

“Stay with me?” he pleads, even though Alexander’s just promised to do so.

Alexander presses a kiss into his hair, swallowing roughly. “Always.” He says it like Magnus has asked the question a hundred times by now, always forgetting the answer. Like Magnus’s uncertainty on this issue hurts him more than any blade ever could.

He holds Magnus tighter, and Magnus twists his fingers in the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m not going anywhere, Magnus, I promise,” Alexander repeats. It’s the first time he’s said Magnus’s name, and Magnus shudders with it, how he says it. Like he has to use it sparingly.

Maybe he does. Maybe one day, Magnus won’t answer to it.

 _“Alexander,”_ Magnus murmurs, hoping he can at least embed his husband’s name into his chest, even if he forgets his own. _“Alexander.”_

Alexander flinches each time he says it.

*

_“Please,” Magnus begs, eyes closed now too, curling into himself, hiding from it all, “just let me go.”_

_“No.”_

“Please _, Alec.”_

“No.” _Alec takes Magnus’s wrists and pulls his hands away, forcing him to listen. “I’m not leaving. No matter what happens. I’m not going to let you go.”_

 _“You won’t have a_ choice _. Just because you want to—” he knows, as he says this, that he shouldn’t. The words feel cruel, even though they’re true. But they leave his mouth of their own accord— “Just because you want to protect me from something doesn’t mean it’s possible.”_

 _Alec flinches, but says, “That doesn’t mean I’m going to_ leave _.”_

 _Magnus struggles against Alec’s grip, but Alec doesn’t let him go. “You_ have _to. There’s nothing else to do.”_

_“There’s always something to do.”_

_“You can’t just bend the world to your will, Alec!” Magnus shouts, all his furious despair rushing out of him at once. “I’m going to forget you and there’s nothing you can do about it! You can’t fix it!”_

_He expects Alec to yell back, wants him to, almost, but instead Alec just deflates. “I know that.”_

_Magnus stares at him. “Then why—”_

_“Haven’t you been_ listening?” _Alec’s grip softens on his wrists, his hands slide down to take a hold of Magnus’s. “I’m not staying to try and_ fix it. _I’m_ staying _to stand by you._ _To— to comfort you. And me.” His voice starts to break. “Do you not—want that?”_

_“Of course I do,” Magnus says quietly._

_“Then… why…?”_

_Magnus tries to will Alec to understand with his mind alone. When that doesn’t work, he’s forced to say, “I don’t want you to have to witness it.”_

_He doesn’t want_ anyone _to witness him spiraling out of control, but especially not his Alexander, who loves him, who he wants to think well of him._ _Magnus thinks his heart will break if he has to know Alec’s last memory will be of a Magnus who_ doesn’t know him.

_Alec’s face sinks. “Oh, Magnus.” He drags Magnus forward into a hug, crushing Magnus awkwardly in his arms. Magnus kind of wants to push him away, shove him off before he caves and sinks into Alec’s arms, never to escape. He doesn’t push him away._

_And suddenly Magnus can’t even find the strength to stand; he sinks to the floor, dragging Alec with him until they’re crumpled together in a disorganized mess of limbs, half on top of each other, Magnus’s face buried in Alec’s neck, Alec pressing into his hair. And Magnus knows he won’t be able to get up now, won’t be able to leave him, because he doesn’t_ want _to leave him. Not now, or ever._

_But he will. Inevitably, he will._

_“I don’t want to leave you,” he says into Alec’s skin, because he just always has to make it worse. “I’m sorry.”_

_“Shh. It’s okay.”_

_“Stay with me,” Magnus begs, suddenly desperate, like all of his arguments might have actually convinced Alec that he should leave. He claws at Alec’s shirt, trying to drag him into his body._ “Please, _stay with me.”_

_“Shhh," Alec hushes, "I got you.”_

*

“The question I asked you before,” Magnus says, face still pressed to Alexander’s chest. “You didn’t answer it.”

He can feel Alexander considering him warily. “Which question?”

Magnus pulls away to look at him properly. It feels like self-destruction, asking this. But Magnus has always been prone to a little self-destruction. “Who you are to me. You told me that you loved me, but that could mean any number of things.”

Alexander closes his eyes for a long moment, a flicker of pain crossing his face.

“We’re married,” Magnus says, very, very slowly, “aren’t we?”

There’s no ring on his finger, but Magnus can’t think of another explanation for how deep in this relationship he feels, even barely knowing this man. He’s never felt like this before, he’s sure of it.

Alexander _is_ wearing a ring, which throws a bit of wrench in his theory because why wouldn’t they _both_ be wearing them? But then again, Magnus has never been one for shacking up with married people—or at least, he doesn’t _think_ he has—so Alexander must be married to _him_.

Mustn’t he?

*

_Magnus takes Alec’s hand, presses his own wedding ring into his palm. “Take this. Please.”_

_Alec’s eyes widen. He tries to push the ring back into Magnus’s hands. “Magnus—”_

_“Not for— I’m not leaving,” Magnus promises, even if there’s a part of him that still thinks that might have been the right thing to do, for Alec’s sake. “Just—hold onto it for me? For safekeeping.”_

_He’s been losing things, more frequently than he was already prone to—it happens when one forgets where one is multiple times per day—and he’s terrified he’ll take off this precious ring and never find it again. Magnus thinks he might actually fall apart if that happens._

_He folds Alec’s fingers over the ring, swallows hard. “I couldn’t bear it if I… misplaced it.”_

_Alec holds the ring tight, understanding now in his gaze. “Alright.”_

_He takes Magnus’s left hand, lifts it to his mouth and presses a kiss to his ring finger, to the slightly paler band of skin there, unused to the sun. Magnus’s hand feels bereft, too light without the weight of his ring, but Alec’s lips are a fitting substitute._

_“I’ll take care of it,” Alec promises. “Just know—it’s always yours.”_

*

For a moment, he thinks Alexander isn’t going to answer, but apparently he sees the uncertainty growing on Magnus’s face because he drags a chain necklace out from under his shirt. On the end of the chain is a ring that matches the one on his finger.

“We are,” he confirms quietly, holding the ring out to Magnus. Magnus runs his finger along the warm metal gently, like it might evaporate. “You gave it to me for safekeeping,” Alexander explains. “You didn’t want to—” he stumbles a little on the words—“misplace it.”

When Magnus just keeps looking at it wonderingly, Alexander asks, “Do you want it back?”

Magnus swallows. “I’m not sure it belongs to me,” he admits quietly. He’s not the man Alexander wants, he’s not the man who built this marriage, he’s not—

“Yes, it does,” Alexander says firmly. “It’s yours, if you want it.”

And Magnus still doesn’t feel like he has the right to have this, but he can’t stop himself from saying, _“Please.”_

*

_Some time later—hours? Months? Centuries?—Magnus finds himself curled up on the floor with his head in Alec’s lap. He doesn’t remember how he got there, but he’s not entirely surprised. Hard surfaces have always been a comfort to him when everything around him feels like it's sliding into formlessness. He presses his cheek into the hard jut of Alec’s hip. Bone against bone._

_Alec’s hands still in his hair. “Magnus? Are you with me?”_

_Magnus hums. He can feel the panic rising again under the strange calm of being cradled by Alec’s body. He tries not to indulge it._

_“What happened?” he asks. His voice is hoarse. He doesn’t remember that._

_Alec resumes his steady strokes through Magnus’s hair, over his neck and shoulders. “You had a panic attack.”_

Interesting _, Magnus thinks._ A regular old break from reality, for once.

_“You were saying something, before,” Alec says. “Something about, ‘I’m losing my mind.’”_

Well _, Magnus thinks harshly—too harshly, Alec might say, for when he’s talking to himself—_ I am. _He’s felt like he might be losing his mind many times in his life, always been prone to that sort of hyperbole. Ironic that, for once, it’s actually true._

_“Talk to me,” Alec says._

_“My—” Magnus begins, has to clear his throat to be able to speak— “my mind is the one thing I’ve always had, even when I had nothing. My memory, my knowledge, my experience—I don’t know what I am without that. I don’t know how I can_ be _anything.”_

_He doesn’t know what to do. Magnus is good at solving problems. He’s alive because he can solve problems, can persevere, can take care of himself._

_He can’t solve this problem._

_Alec lifts him up from his lap, holds Magnus around his shoulders, kisses him, hard, and says, “You can be_ loved.”

_Magnus wraps his arms around his neck and holds on tight, and Alec continues, in between kissing him—_

_“You can be the kindest man I’ve ever known, because I_ know _that no matter what you forget, that will remain._

 _“You can be the smartest warlock this side of the sixteenth century, because that doesn’t have to do with what you know, that’s just_ who you are.

_“You can be Cat’s best friend and Raphael’s dad and Madzie’s uncle and Izzy’s partner in crime. Because they all care about you no matter what._

_“And—” his voice starts to break—“you can be my_ husband.”

 _“But I won’t_ know _you,” Magnus pleads, and he really doesn’t know what he’s trying to accomplish by saying it. Hurt Alec? Prove him wrong? Make him leave and prove himself right about his own lot in life?_

 _“It doesn’t matter,” Alec says, and that isn’t true at all, they both_ know _it isn’t true, but Magnus grabs hold of it with both hands anyway, clings to it desperately the way he clings to Alec’s neck. “You’ll always be my husband.”_

 _Magnus sort of doesn’t want Alec to call him that anymore. At the same time, he wants it desperately._ Needs _it desperately. Needs_ him.

 _He gets violently to his feet, pulls Alec up beside him. Kisses him,_ hard, _hungrily, like a final breath of air before he goes under._

_He pushes Alec back towards the bedroom, and Alec goes willingly, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, pulling at Magnus’s body. Magnus leans into him so hard he’s almost surprised Alec doesn’t lose his balance, but he trusts Alec to hold him up._

_Alec does so with shaking, desperate hands, tugs at Magnus’s shirt to unbutton it, fingers glancing over his body like he thinks his touch will bruise Magnus’s skin. Magnus feels bruised._ Wants _to feel bruised._

 _He can do this. He wants to do this._ Needs _to do this. While he still can._

_He lets Alec lead him on stumbling legs through their bedroom doorway._

*

Alexander pulls the chain over his head and holds it out. Magnus takes it gingerly, letting the ring sit in his palm, twisting the chain, warm still from Alexander’s skin, around his fingers. No recovered memories rush through him at the weight of it, and Magnus closes his fingers around the ring, holding it tight to his chest as tears gather anew in his eyes because he _wants_ this. _This_. This marriage, whatever’s between them. And he can’t have it.

Alexander closes his hand over Magnus’s, but doesn’t try to take the ring back. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

Magnus really isn’t sure whether it feels better or worse to know that this man, who’s so devoted to him he’s still here even when Magnus doesn’t know him, is his husband. If he thinks about it too hard he might have to flee the room.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus says, and for once Alexander doesn’t try to stop him, “for everything.”

It’s not really an apology, more so an acknowledgement of shared grief. Maybe that’s why Alexander merely squeezes his hand, and says, “I know.”

*

_The bedroom is dark, and Magnus can barely make out Alec’s shape, has to navigate him by memory alone. He pushes up against him, so hard that Alec stumbles with it, digs his fingers into Alec’s hair._

_“Please,” he begs. He’s shaking, hyperventilating, heart rocketing out of control._ “Please, _before I—”_

_“Hey hey hey hey. Hey.” Alec holds his face tight between his hands, holds him still while Magnus is trembling into pieces. “Shhh. Slow down. It’s okay.”_

_“I_ can’t _,” Magnus pleads, pushing into Alec’s hands as if testing the strength of his grip. He_ has _to make Alec know that he loves him. He_ has _to, before he_ can’t. _“I_ can’t _, Alexander—”_

 _“You can.” Alec’s voice is rough, his own steady composure cracking, but he holds tight to Magnus’s face. He presses a gentle, reverent kiss to Magnus’s forehead. “I’ve got you. I’ve_ got _you, okay. Just relax.”_

_And Magnus wants to do what he says, but he can’t stop shaking, can’t stop worrying, can’t stop his mind from spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning and—_

_“Magnus.” Alec’s voice takes on the slightest hint of a command, and Magnus stills to his touch. “Relax. It’s okay._

_“Let me take care of you.”_

*

Magnus can’t take the ring off its chain, but he loops the chain over his neck, tucking it under the collar of his sweatshirt where it’ll stay warm against his skin. Alexander presses a hand to his chest where it rests, indenting Magnus’s skin with the subtle shape of the metal.

Magnus reaches out in turn to touch Alexander’s chest, trying to follow the rhythm of this heart he should know as well as his own. “I love you,” he murmurs, because he _knows_ it’s true, even if he doesn’t know why, when, how. In the haze and jumble all he can find is Alexander’s heart beating steady and true under his hands.

Alexander shudders under his touch. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t actually feel it,” he says, though the words are wrenched out of his throat.

“I do feel it,” Magnus says. “That’s all I can feel.”

Alexander looks at him then, so full of softness and longing it makes Magnus’s heart actually break, and he thinks—this other Magnus who lived this other life managed to make something really beautiful here. Maybe that makes it worth it.

*

_Afterwards, Magnus lies shaking on his husband’s chest. He can’t seem to let go of him. His mind feels uniquely clear, clear enough to know that it won’t last._

_“I don’t want to leave you,” he says quietly into Alec’s throat._

_Alec’s fingers press bruises into his skin. “I don’t want you to, either.”_

_And then, for the first time, Alec loses his composure. His arms tighten around Magnus’s body like he could make him one with his chest; it’s completely graceless but Magnus doesn’t want to be held in any other way by anyone else ever again._

_“Please, don’t,” Alec whimpers, face pressed into Magnus’s hair, tears falling, “don’t leave.”_

_Magnus strokes his hair, trying to comfort him, though there’s nothing he can say. He’s all out of heartbreak, all he can do is hold him._

_“Don’t leave.”_

*

Alexander pulls him back in close, crushing the ring between their bodies, crushing Magnus in his arms, and Magnus can’t see his face, from where he’s pressed against Alexander’s neck, but he thinks Alexander—his _husband_ —is crying.

Magnus feels terrible for making him cry, even though he doesn’t know how not to. He can’t solve this. He can’t come back to him, not really.

He just lets Alexander hold him tight, lets him drag him on top of him so Magnus is blanketing his body, reminding him of his weight, his presence. All Magnus can do now is be here, so he tries to rest in the warmth of Alexander’s body, silently apologizing for leaving, silently promising to stay, such that he’s able to. He runs his hands through Alexander’s hair, trying to comfort him, but this only seems to make his husband cry harder.

So Magnus just holds him, holds him close, and whispers into his skin, _I’m sorry._

*

 _Alec dresses Magnus in his own warm, oversized sleepwear, and Magnus wonders if the smell of them, the smell of_ Alec _, is the only thing keeping him, now, from slipping off. He wants to stay here, in this moment, but he’s tired. He’s so tired._

_He’s been tired for a very long time._

_Alec gathers him close under the covers. “Go to sleep. It’s okay.”_

It isn’t _, Magnus wants to say._

_But it has to be._

_“Go to sleep, Magnus. I love you.”_

I love you _, Magnus says, or maybe just thinks, before the darkness pulls him under._

*

Alexander is humming to him, Magnus thinks. It’s some song that Magnus used to know, should know. The melody tickles at his mind in the same way as Alexander’s lips. A happy memory, he thinks.

Magnus leans into his chest, lets his eyes fall shut again, drifting back into the now-familiar haze. Although, he thinks, if he has to be drowning, Alexander’s arms make a pretty good anchor to the surface.

 _I’ll find you_ , he thinks, before he slips under, _I’ll find you._

*

_Alec’s voice is calling to him through the darkness, but he can’t quite hear him, can’t quite make him out. He wants to reach for him, but he doesn’t know which direction to go in, doesn’t even know—_

_—who he was searching for._

*

“Magnus?”

_“Magnus?”_

*

_“Alexander?”_

**Author's Note:**

> if you hate me for writing this, just know you can't possibly hate me more than I already hate myself 🙂
> 
> also the song Alec's humming is "what a wonderful world," their wedding song


End file.
